


Drive

by WincestOTP



Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom
Genre: M/M, PWP, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WincestOTP/pseuds/WincestOTP





	Drive

It’s been an hour since they last saw another car, and Sam has been hard and desperate for most of that time. He’d known this morning when Dean tossed him the keys and said “Drive” that something was up, but this is sheer torture.

The Impala’s A/C has been on the fritz for the last week–that’s the excuse Dean gave when he rolled down the window and tossed his shirt in the back seat. His shoes and socks had followed– _might as well get comfy since you’re doing all the work, Sammy!_ –smirking as he propped his feet on the dashboard in a way that would get Sam smacked with laundry duty for a month. It’s not fair–Sam doesn’t have a _thing_ , necessarily, but Dean’s feet are just as beautiful as the rest of him, golden and freckled, perfect arches and long toes that he’s flexing luxuriously, a part of Dean that he doesn’t see very often. The sun and heat are making Dean’s skin practically glow, faint sheen of sweat not quite dripping off him, amulet heavy and warm on his chest and now he’s unbuttoned his jeans, _don’t want to chafe without my t-shirt_ , he’d said, and Sam can barely keep his eyes on the road.

Dean doesn’t bother with an excuse when he slides a hand into the open v of his jeans and slowly rubs himself through the thin material, never taking his eyes off Sam’s in the mirror. His lips are already swollen pink with bitten back moans as he touches himself, daring Sam to do something about it.

Sam has never been one to back down from a dare.

It’s been an hour since they last saw a car, and Sam doesn’t care if their privacy only lasts another two minutes. He pulls the impala onto the shoulder, wide swathe of grass and a few trees with no real cover, but Sam couldn’t care less.

"Out,“ he says tightly, and Dean opens his mouth like he’s gonna protest, maybe complain about parking his ‘Baby’ on the side of the road like some kind of derelict but Sam just growls ” _Now_ , Dean" and he swears he can see Dean’s cock twitch in his black boxer briefs. Dean licks his lips (surge of heat right through Sam) and his eyes go wide, greener than the grass as he opens the door and climbs out without a word, barely a trace of his usual smirk.

Sam pauses to grab the bottle of lube they keep in the glovebox then he’s out the door and stalking around the side of the Impala. “Such a fuckin tease,” he mutters, getting right into Dean’s space as he slams the bottle down on the hood.

Dean’s smirk widens. “You know you love it, Sammy,” he says, batting his stupidly long and thick eyelashes, and then Sam’s kissing the words right out of his mouth, one hand on Dean’s jaw, the other down the back of his jeans, sliding between the tight muscles to push against the tight opening there. They both groan, Dean arching against him with a low, wordless cry as Sam forces his finger inside dry, swallowing the sound as Dean grinds against him.

Sam steps back reluctantly, just enough space between them to rip his t-shirt over his head. Dean watches hungrily, still leaning against the Impala, the head of his cock just showing over the waistband of his briefs, already slick from his earlier teasing. He licks his lips again, slow slide of his tongue over already swollen flesh and Sam’s resolve nearly falters as he imagines Dean on his knees swallowing him down, how gorgeous he’d look with Sam’s come dripping down to mix with the sweat already sliding over his bare chest.

But no. Sam has a plan, and he’s sticking to it. “Strip,” he orders, shoving down his own jeans and kicking off his shoes. Dean’s naked before the word is out of Sam’s mouth, or so it seems, hands on the Impala, legs spread and back arched by the time Sam’s managed to kick his jeans off completely. Sam’s cock throbs painfully at the invitation, blurt of precome dribbling toward his balls and he can’t help getting a hand on himself, spreading the slick around with a sharp groan. He can practically feel Dean’s self satisfied grin, even if he can’t see it, and he steps in close enough that his brother can feel the heat from his body as he grabs the bottle of lube from the Impala’s hood.

Dean cranes his head around, seeking Sam’s mouth, but Sam latches onto that spot under his jaw, the one that makes Dean’s knees go a little weak when Sam sucks the blood to the surface hot and fast. Dean grinds back against him, sound that he’ll definitely deny is a whimper leaking out and _fuck_ all Sam wants to do is bury himself in his brother and drag those noises out of him forever.

Instead, Sam steps back, hand on the back of Dean’s neck as he hauls him around. “On your knees,” he whispers roughly, pointing to a spot away from the road where the grass is thicker. He doesn’t push, but Dean stumbles anyway, one long step and he’s on his hands and knees, legs spread as he looks back at Sam over his shoulder. He already looks debauched, sweaty and flushed, pupils blown, lips plump and tender. Sam slumps to the ground behind him, tickle of grass under his knees but he doesn’t care, slick fingers already prodding at Dean’s hole. Dean’s head falls forward when Sam pushes in two at once, knows Dean can take it, knows he likes the burn of it and that he’s still a little open from the night before. The rest of the world fades away, nothing around them but the sound of Dean panting, half words that might be Sam’s name, might be _please_ and _God_ and _more, Sammy, fuck_. Sam pushes in another finger, finds that sweet spot that makes Dean’s whole body go tight as he cries out and that’s it, that’s all Sam can take. He gets one hand in Dean’s hair, pulling his head back until his whole body arches beautifully, the other on his hip hard enough to bruise, pushing him down to the perfect angle for Sam to drive up into him in one long stroke.

They both shout, Dean’s hands digging into the dirt and grass like he’s trying to hold onto the world and Sam doesn’t give him a single moment to adjust. He shoves back in, hard and fast, nailing Dean’s prostate and _God_ it’s incredible. Tight slick heat clinging to every inch of him, Dean trembling with every stroke as he tries to push back, to take Sam deeper and harder but Sam growls _just let me just fucking let me_ and pulls Dean’s head back harder until his whole body is shaking with the strain and his breath is rasping in his throat. Neither of them are going to last long, Sam can feel Dean clench around him, already so close, both of them on edge for so long as it is. “Come for me, Dean,” Sam gasps, shifting so he can bite down on the long, arched column of Dean’s neck. “Show me how much you love my cock, do it–” and Dean does, his entire body locked down, muscles clenching and fluttering around Sam and that’s all it takes. Sam shoves in as hard as he can, gets as deep as he can as he spills inside Dean, pleasure crashing over both of them until they collapse in a sweaty, messy heap.

Dean moves first. “Get off me you goddamn Sasquatch,” he grumbles, elbowing Sam none too gently in the ribs. Sam moves about two inches, dragging Dean with him until they’re lying on their sides. He doesn’t want to move yet, doesn’t want to let go and lose that feeling of connection that comes from being inside his brother. Dean grumbles a little more, mutters under his breath that they’re pushing their luck, gonna be a cop by any minute to arrest them for indecent exposure. But his hand creeps up to tangle with Sam’s where he’s tracing Dean’s tattoo over and over and his eyes slip closed with a sigh. Sam smiles and breathes deep. There’s no place else he’d rather be.


End file.
